


Food Is Complicated

by Writing_Doodle



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Eating Disorders, Gen, also stick is an ass for saying all those things about vanilla ice cream, also they don't know how to tag things, doodle has nothing better to do with their life and goes overboard with matts super senses, matt is sad because that's how life is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3853606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_Doodle/pseuds/Writing_Doodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sugar grains, vanilla bean, milk from three different dairies from two states, batch of chemicals straight off the periodic tables, and dirt off the guy's hand that served it to you." </p><p>Matt Murdock doesn't like food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Daredevil fic and I have literally no idea what I'm doing.

Matt Murdock doesn't like to eat out. 

He doesn't like the constant assault of smells. He doesn't like the loud music, the people talking over each other. He doesn't like having to rely on other people to read the menu for him.  


Most importantly, he doesn't like the food. He doesn't like how complicated everything has to be. The different ingredients - the different flavors - stacked on top of each other. All of them screaming to be noticed and he can't sort them out.  


No, Matt doesn't like to eat out.  


He's come to the conclusion that he doesn't like to eat at all.  


He hates that about himself. He hates how overly sensitive his taste is.  


Sometimes he's thankful, he knows that he doesn't have to fear food poisoning of any kind.  


But it's been forever since he's actually enjoyed a meal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still have no idea what I'm doing and where I'm going with this.

It started out with a pizza.  


Foggy ordered it.  


"I'm too tired to make something." Was his justification.  


Matt held a flimsy paper plate, heavy with the pizza slice. He could feel the grease on his lips. The smell of the pepperoni tickled his nose.  


A simple pizza by anyone's means.  


Still, he picked off the pepperoni, pulled off the cheese, and scraped off the sauce.  


The plain slice was gooey. It didn't scrape his throat when he swallowed.  
There was still enough sauce to taste the tomato, but not enough to overpower the taste of the bread.  


It was nice.  


"Are you ok?" Came Foggy's concerned but mostly confused voice.  


Matt turned to face it as much as he could. "Yeah, I just, ah, I just don't really like pizza that much."  


"Aww, what, really? Dude you should've told me."  


"It's ok. I can stand it without all the stuff."  


"All the stuff that makes it taste good."  


Matt shrugged. He nibbled at the cheese. Three different kinds, all processed.  


Cautiously, he popped a single pepperoni in his mouth. He knew that a person with normal senses wouldn't be able to taste all of the spices, but he did. Every single one of them.  


It burned.  


Despite himself, Matt coughed a bit after he swallowed. He heard Foggy's heartbeat jump at the cough.  


"Dude, are you ok?" There was a bit of panic in his voice. Matt didn't think he coughed too loudly. Maybe the spice numbed his hearing.  


"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Matt kept his voice even, despite his throat burning. He held out a hand to assure his friend that he was just fine.  


The heartbeat evened out.  
"You sure?"  


Matt was glad that Foggy cared enough to worry over him, but he didn't need any of it. It was fine. This was normal.  


"Yeah." He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lingering spice. He held out the plate with it's dismembered pizza. "You want the rest?"  


The plate was jostled when Foggy touched the edge. There was hesitation in the way he barely held on to it.  


"You barely ate..."  


"It's fine, do we still have some yoghurt in the fridge?"  


"Yeah."  


"I'll just have some of that." Matt felt Foggy hold the plate more completely and released his grip.  


"Ok, bro. Sorry about the pizza."  


"It's fine."  


He ignored the concerned looks Foggy gave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this fic will go in a vaguely chronological order, starting from the college days and ending post season 1. I think.


	3. Chapter 3

"Dude your cereal's getting soggy."  


Matt knew. "I like soggy cereal."  


"Really?" Matt could hear the unabashed disbelief in Foggy's voice and laughed at the mental image of his face.  


"Yeah. It's nice not having to chew."  


That wasn't all of it.  


He hated the crunch of the cereal. The feeling of the flakes sticking the inside of his mouth. Scraping his throat when swallowed.  


The motion of chewing is fine, he doesn't mind his teeth grinding against each other. It was unavoidable, he got used to it.  


The feeling of his mouth and throat getting scraped by dry cereal is something he didn't want to get used to.  


He didn't need to get used to it.  


He heard Foggy snort into his coffee (the smell was unmistakable). The sound of hair brushing against his shoulders indicated that he was shaking his head. 

"You're so weird, man."  


Matt smiled and laughed. "I guess I am."  


But his thoughts were grim. 'You have no idea.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one's really short. They're all going to be really short. Hopefully that keeps me writing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hastily throws something together*

The coffee was terrible, but Matt learned to deal with it. 

It was the quickest way he knew of to get caffeine and everyone knows that college students live off of that stuff. 

In a way, he was glad that the coffee was so awful. The caffeine might have _kept_ him awake, but something needed to _get_ him to wake up. 

Well, shock him awake. 

The coffee was disgusting. It was instant. Not even the good kind of instant, if such a thing exists. The bad kind; the kind that tasted like grainy sewage. 

He sucked in a mouthful and would've hissed if the action didn't cause sewage-coffee to run down his chin.

He forced it down and proceeded to cough loudly.  
It was so goddamned hot, even at the coffee maker's lowest setting. His tongue and mouth felt almost raw. 

Across the small kitchen Foggy made his own cup. "Eugh."  
Matt felt the air around his friend vibrate and concluded that he shuddered. 

"Yeah." Matt agreed, taking another reluctant gulp. 

God it was awful. 

"We need to get a better maker." Matt heard the metallic ring of metal being hit. 

"Hey be nice to the machine, it works hard." 

"Not hard enough." Foggy took another swig and Matt laughed at the resulting gag. 

"I don't know. The coffee kind of grows on you." Matt took a smaller sip, still wary of the coffee's heat. His tongue stung and the coffee was still god-awful. 

There was a long silence, Foggy stood still. 

"Are you making a face at me? I have a feeling you're making a face at me." Matt smiled and the picture his brain supplied. 

"How the hell can this coffee grow on you? I mean, yeah it's probably toxic enough to contaminate your bloodstream or whatever, but to have it _grow_ on you..." 

Matt shrugged, took another sip and felt his face wrinkle up. "Well, the taste really wakes you up." 

"Huh. I guess. Dude you look really sick." 

Honesty, Matt felt like he could throw up. There's only so much sewer water you can drink. He felt it sit in his stomach, mingling with the acids. Making some toxic waste that'll boost his energy for the rest of the day. The weight of the cup suggested that he wasn't even halfway done. 

"Yeah. This coffee's _really_ bad."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking awhile! testing and shit.

Matt felt around the sparse fridge. 

A carton of milk (almost empty). An apple. Leftover pizza (it's been more than a week, it's probably bad by now.)

A smile found it's way on Matt's face when he felt the familiar cups of yogurt. (Only three left.) 

He felt around a bit more (the cold numbed his touch) until he was able to make out the rubber band around one of them. 

He quickly grabbed it and shut the fridge. It was actually Foggy's idea, to differentiate their yogurt using rubber bands. Matt knew about the technique, of course, but he was content to just deal with whatever he got. 

But Foggy insisted, saying, "Cut the crap, Murdock. I know you're big on the whole, 'Don't accommodate me I'm perfectly capable on my own' thing, but you don't _need_ to _deal_ with _anything_." 

Matt was thankful, but he wouldn't admit it.

He took off the rubber band and dropped it near the fridge to be reused again. He opened the top of the cup and was greeted by the familiar sour tang. 

Foggy liked the fruity yogurt. The kind with Real Fruit Pieces and syrup. Matt thought it was revolting. 

The fruit was obviously fake and even if it was real it's been canned for years. The syrup was disgustingly sweet. It made his teeth hurt and it coated his mouth. 

It could take hours for the artificial sweetener to wear off. 

He liked plain yogurt. The kind with no sweetener. The kind with no artificial flavoring. 

He knew it was harder to find and generally more expensive. He felt bad that Foggy went through the trouble of finding and paying for it despite their tight budget.

But Foggy knew that yogurt was one of the few things Matt can actually eat and _enjoy?_. 

Matt loved the texture. He loved how smooth and creamy it was. How it slid down his throat so easily and he didn't have to chew. 

He could ignore the taste of the old milk from a dairy in Wisconsin. He could ignore the sourness from the bacteria.   
It was comforting that there was something that he could eat easily. 

He spooned the yogurt into his mouth and hummed disapprovingly when he caught the faint taste of artificial sweetener. 

Oh well. Things can't always be perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoot guys! sorry for taking so long to update! and all I have is this measly thing. school's almost out, so I'll have a lot more time to do things then! thanks for holding on. :)

He was starving. He was late for class. There was no food in the dorm. 

He really didn't have much of a choice. 

He was in front of one of the old vending machines that were all over the campus. 

The number pads had Braille, but Matt thought that it was a useless, empty gesture. If the campus really wanted their machines to be Disabled Friendly, they would figure out a way for blind people to be able to actually see what was in the machines. 

For once he was happy about his overly sensitive nose. 

The top row of the machine smelled very strongly of chemicals and regret. 

He avoided the letters A-B on the number pad. 

Near the bottom he smelled copious amounts of sugar and sweetener. His nose involuntarily scrunched up in distaste.

He was prepared to just walk away, before his stomach growled and he felt sick. 

As much as he hated eating, he hated starving more. The feeling of the acids lapping at his stomach. The disgusting feeling of his stomach constricting. The way too loud gurgles and growls. 

He swallowed his pride and sensitive palate, randomly punched a number (he still avoided the sweets and the chemicals, he wasn't hungry enough to stoop that low) and grabbed the snack. 

He stuffed the granola bar in his mouth and rushed to his class. 

It felt like chewing gravel and the sound pounded in his skull.   
His throat and mouth were raw by the time he was done. 

Matt hoped it satisfied his stomach enough because he knew that that was the last thing he'd eat for the day.


	7. Chapter 7

Matt felt like he was the only one who enjoyed the cafeteria's food. 

"It's so bland." Foggy grumbled as gave the person working a few dollars. 

Matt shrugged, holding his own tray of food and letting his friend lead him to a table. 

"Like, I don't know what they do to make food this bland. How much are you willing to bet they have a machine that sucks the flavor out of food?" 

Matt chuckled at that, poking at whatever was on his plate. 

"Left hand is half a turkey sandwich, right up is a salad that I'm pretty sure has no dressing - heathens - right down is a cookie. I have no idea what kind of cookie it is, I honestly think it's a painted hockey puck." Foggy supplied, adding his own commentary in the mix. 

Matt laughed and picked up the sandwich. The bread felt grainy, he determined it was wheat. 

He took a bite and, honestly, it was great. There were no condiments on the sandwich, the meat wasn't spiced up, the tomato was thin, the lettuce wasn't crisp. 

It was dry yes, but it barely tasted like anything.

It was perfect. 

"You're the only person I've met that can actually enjoy something like this." Foggy said with his mouth full, making an over exaggerated gagging noise when he swallowed. 

"Hey sometimes you just gotta give your taste buds a break, bland food is like a vacation." 

"The most boring vacation ever." 

"I guess. But a bit of boring is good." 

Foggy made a whining noise.

"You're the one who didn't go to the store, so it's your fault you're hating everything right now." 

The whining noise increased in volume. Matt let himself get hit with a bit of salad. 

Foggy was right, it didn't have any dressing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loosing my muse for this story. Next chapter may take a while, may not. Just expect a drop in quality. ://


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can feel my grip on these characters slipping away. I need to rewatch the show. Sorry for taking so long!

The smell drifted into his nose as soon as he entered the dorm. Matt swallowed the bile that came up his throat. 

He fought hard not to grimace at the burning and he must have done pretty well considering Foggy's heartbeat didn't speed up in the slightest. 

"Happy Birthday, buddy!" 

Matt heard rustling and suddenly a hand clapped his shoulder. 

"Hey, Foggy." Matt forced a smile. "You remembered." 

He was genuinely touched that Foggy remembered his birthday. It's been years since it's been celebrated.

But the smell crept back up into his nostrils, choking away any happiness he might've felt. 

"Of course I remembered! What kind of friend do you take me for?" Foggy feigned hurt. Matt heard the swoosh of hair flying and he could imagine his friend turning his head dramatically. 

His smile was less forced this time. 

"Sorry, sorry." Matt chuckled, shrugging off Foggy's hand. "I'm just not used to people remembering. Or knowing." 

There was a pause as Foggy registered what Matt said. Then he continued. "It's fine. Look I even got you something!" 

And that was that. He didn't pry. He didn't give his condolences. He just moved on. 

Matt will thank God every day of his life that Foggy Nelson was his friend.

But then something was shoved into his hands and Matt wanted to throw up. 

He couldn't tell if his hands were white, but they must be with how hard he was gripping the paper plate. It was slightly heavy with something. 

The smell was unmistakable, Foggy didn't even need to say anything. 

"I got you a cupcake!" Matt could _hear_ the smile in Foggy's voice. The enthusiasm was palpable. "I know that you have some sensory issues, so I got you vanilla. I figured that chocolate would be too rich." 

_Vanilla._

Matt wanted to scream. 

Chocolate would've been better. Would've been so much better. 

He didn't have memories associated with chocolate. 

With each smell a flash went off in head. 

_The smell of sweat._  
The heavy breathing.  
The harsh voice.  
Do better next time.  
Work harder.  
Faster.  
Blood. He could taste blood in his mouth.  
Do better next time.  
He felt the concrete on his face. He was sore all over.  
Do better next time.  
You piece of shit.  
Do better. Do better. Dobetterdobetter. 

"Matt?" 

Foggy's voice rang like a bell. Wavered like a antenna on a car. (Did those waver much? He didn't remember.) 

Matt felt his hands shake. When did they start shaking? 

"Matt?" Foggy's voice rang out again. Less like a bell, heavier. Like an anchor. An anchor tying Matt down to reality. "Dude, are you ok? You look pale." 

Worry was etched into his words. Matt swallowed. 

"Y-yes." He cursed the stutter that slipped out. "I'm fine. I. Just... Can't believe you did this for me. Thank you." 

The lie burnt his tongue worse than the bile bunt his throat. 

"It's fine..." Foggy sounded unconvinced, but he didn't pry. He didn't pry and Matt was thankful. So thankful. "I'll just. Give you some space, I guess?" 

It took Matt a second to realize that Foggy was asking for his permission to leave. "Yes, ok. I'm sorry. I-" 

"Don't be sorry, man. It's fine." Matt felt his hand pat his shoulder. Not as casual as the first time. Hesitant. Like he was afraid that Matt would crumple at the touch. "I needed to check something out at the library anyway."

The door opened. And then it closed. 

Matt dropped the plate with the damned _vanilla_ cupcake and crumbled. 

When Foggy came back with a new book under his arm, he didn't question the fact that Matt was fast asleep on the couch.

He didn't question the white stain on the carpet. 

He didn't question the uneaten cupcake in the trash can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this has over 3000 views! Thank you all so much for actually paying attention to this ship wreck of a story! I never would've imagined this many people would've found it worth their time. Thank you!


End file.
